


Five Times That James Showed Gentleness Towards Alastair, and One Time It Was Returned

by CaryceJade



Series: Past, Present, and Future [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Everybody Lives, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Injury, M/M, Magical Realism, Multiple Crossovers, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 06:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6041323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaryceJade/pseuds/CaryceJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vague crossover with a Harry Potter AU.</p><p>There were several occasions over the course of their lives together where Alastair was genuinely touched by James' kindness towards him. There were five occasions that stuck out to him, and one time where he truly felt that he returned the favor. There were other occasions, sure, but those stuck out the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times That James Showed Gentleness Towards Alastair, and One Time It Was Returned

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, I do not own this. 
> 
> This is a crossover between my Reassembly Harry Potter AU over on ffn, but working knowledge of it isn't really necessary, and is a vague sequel to my Endeavour/Harry Potter fusion, though again, not necessary to know a great deal, other than that Carrie/Morgana is related to a critical family in Reassembly, though she has grown up in England, is older than she looks, keeps her own counsel, and is somebody you want on the same side as you.
> 
> This is so AU, it's not even funny, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone until I started playing with it. I may wind up playing around a bit more in this sandbox, since this is the most productive I've been in a while.

Very few people expected someone as hyperactive as James Spencer was under normal circumstances to be capable of gentleness when the situation required it, especially Alastair, though he soon realized that James was unstintingly loving towards those that actually knew him for who he was.

 

**Concussion**

The first incident occurred a few weeks before they actually started dating, about five months after James had become Lancelot. They had already been on two missions together, and Alastair was of the opinion that James must have been a chihuahua in a previous life. He was vibrant, hyperactive, a ball of energy, and, since it was only in his head that he thought it, rather attractive, his energy contagious, and his smiles and laughter infectious.

It helped that James, while boisterous and humorous, did not have a malicious bone in his body, could be very entertaining, and could switch gears from joking to serious in a matter of seconds. It was certainly a true complement to his own more reserved personality.

They were on what was supposed to be a fairly quick mission, a month or two at most, to take out a drug lord that had chosen a rural part of eastern Tennessee as his base of operations, perfectly situated to distribute his drugs of choice: methamphetamines, oxycontin, and marijuana. 

The mission had been meticulously planned, the provided information for their covers was detailed, and they had worked on their accents with Morgana, who had family in the area, and, though she had grown up in England, could replicate the distinct Appalachian dialect flawlessly, including colloquialisms and idioms. The tailors had a time trying to manufacture bulletproof shirts and trousers, since Morgana had pointed out that the only people in those areas that wore suits were preachers and lawyers, which would attract the wrong kind of attention, but they had succeeded in their attempts. She had also given Merlin maps and advice on exit routes, including some that weren't on official maps, since she knew the area well, and had procured a vehicle from her uncle in North Carolina that would be sturdy, reliable, and enable them to make a quick getaway, plus be very nondescript.

So far, the mission had went off without a hitch, the two of them ingratiating themselves with the dealer as regular, loyal buyers of marijuana. The first few deals had been done in neutral locations in the poorer parts of several small towns such as old gas stations, seedy car washes, and rest stops along I-81 and I-40. Gradually, they had earned enough of the trust of the dealer to make their next buy at his base of operations, but waited until the fourth buy to decide to take him out.

They had driven a disreputable-looking dark blue Buick that Morgana’s uncle had dented up even more to a decrepit-looking house that appeared to only be standing due to force of habit, had taken out the mark without a hitch, and were getting ready to leave.

That was when everything started going downhill. One minute, Alastair was following James across a cluttered and disgusting living room to make their exit. The next minute, part of the ceiling had collapsed, a piece of plywood that had been nailed to a two-by-four hitting Alastair on the head.

It took a moment for Alastair to realize that James was speaking to him, and then it sounded far away. “...all right there?” He started when James laid a hand on his arm. “Percival, I need you to answer me if you can. Are you able to make it to the car? I don't think it's safe to stay here much longer, the way that ceiling is creaking.” Sure enough, the ceiling was creaking ominously.

He nodded, though the motion sent a wave of pain through his head, as well as a bit of nausea. He stumbled upright, taking several deep breaths to keep from throwing up.

He only took a few shaky steps before James took one of his arms and pulled it over his shoulder in order to half-carry him out of the house.

Once they were outside, in the car, and on their way, James started talking to Merlin, who apparently was going over with him how to manage a concussion. He saw James nod sharply, then half-turn his head towards him as they headed down 11-E. According to the road signs, they were now going through Bull’s Gap, so they had almost two hours of driving ahead of them.

“Managing all right, Al?” James asked. 

Alastair nodded, just a small movement that still managed to make him dizzy and nauseous. “Just talk to me, keep me from only concentrating on…” he clapped a hand over his mouth at a sudden rush of nausea.

“Oh, shit.” James stopped the car, reached across him, and got the door open just in time. He’d have fallen out of the car if James didn't have a hand wrapped in the back of his shirt.

He only sort of hazily remembered James pulling him back into the car, cleaning him up, and getting him situated in the car, or the drive to the house Morgana had told them about.

He did remember how gently James did it, though, and while he recovered in a small house in another small town that a cousin of Morgana’s that worked for the American branch owned, he came to the realization that maybe he ought to start acting on his attraction to the other agent.

**Meet-the-family Jitters**

“Al, don't worry. Mum and Fay will love you.”

“I'm not worried, James. I’m bloody terrified.” Alastair was extremely pale and trembling. Funny how he could handle his job just fine, but bring up being introduced to his boyfriend’s mother and sister, and he was a mess.

James smiled softly, took his boyfriend’s hands in his own, and kissed him. “Just be yourself. Mum and Fay are nice people, and I'm not saying that just because they're my mother and sister. Mum’s very open-minded. As long as I'm happy, she's happy, and Fay has a good head on her shoulders for an eighteen-year-old. Better one than I had, really.” He gave a wry smile at that. “At least Mum never got a call about her putting a cherry bomb in a toilet or tying a table to a car and racing through an open field.”

Alastair looked at James open-mouthed, then started laughing. “Is that why Arthur and Merlin look horrified at the idea of you and Galahad being on a mission together, while Morgana looks positively gleeful about it?”

“Maybe.” Alastair raised an eyebrow. “All right, yes. Morgana’s youngest son, Paul, and elder daughter, Zelda, were the other people involved. She acted like she was annoyed in the headmaster’s office, but winked and slipped us each twenty pounds as soon as his back was turned. Turns out she and her own best friend had also been pranksters and daredevils in school, and her husband is known to appreciate a good joke.”

Alastair, despite being an agent for almost three years, really did not know Morgana that well, except that she was their liaison with the Wizarding World, rarely presented candidates, preferred to be called Carrie if not at work, and could be very kind after a hard mission if you needed someone to talk to, cry on, or spar with. He knew she was married and had children, but he had only seen her husband once, a tall, thin man with greying dark hair and clever eyes. He was willing to bet he knew that she wasn't actually working at a tailor’s shop.

“It sounds like you've known her a long time.”

James nodded, smiling wryly. “Since I was about six, when Fay's dad died.” His expression changed to slight disgust. “There was a war in the Wizarding World that ended in 1981. He was killed by some bigots follwing an arse who thought that witches and wizards shouldn't marry or have children with muggles. Carrie was the one that had to tell us, since she was involved in the battle. She and Peter took us sometimes to give Mum a break. Paul was my age, Zelda was a year younger, and Corrine is the same age as Fay. I got on with Sam and Philip, but they went to a different school like Corrine and Fay did because they had magic.”

Alastair nodded. The agents, after being made aware of magic were given a rundown of major events and politics in the Wizarding World, so he had a grasp of the basics of the First Wizarding War that ran from 1970 until 1981, as well as the second that lasted from November of 1995 until the end of June 1996. He remembered Morgana telling all the agents that if they saw a green skull with a snake coming out of the mouth floating over a building to get as far away as they could, as quickly as they could, then call her to notify the proper authorities. There had been a few protests, until she had sternly informed them that it was not something they were equipped to handle, and attempting to do so would only result in their needless deaths in gruesome manners. He had been surprised Galahad and Merlin had not protested, until Merlin had informed him that the two of them had been two of Morgana’s three candidates she had presented over the years, and that Harry had known her since he was about six, and knew when she was being dead serious. According to both Merlin and Harry, she had seen things in the Wizarding Wars that made even them nauseous to even think too hard about. He just knew, from sparring with her after a couple of really bad missions, that she was intense in a fight, she really did not care for Chester King, and, according to Kay and Bedivere, was not someone you ever wanted to be on the bad side of.

“Come on,” James said, smiling. “If we wait any longer, we’ll be late, and Fay will tease us mercilessly.”

**Gastroenteritis**

Alastair laid his forehead against the seat of the toilet, whimpering softly. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this sick. He wanted James, though he had not had anything worse than a cold in the year they had been living together. Unfortunately, James wasn't due back until tomorrow at the earliest.

He needed to try to drink some water, so he pulled himself up and over to the sink and filled a small cup with water, sat back down, and took a few sips.

Bad idea. Very bad idea. It came back up within fifteen minutes. He tried a small sip, then started as he heard the lock to the door of their flat being undone.

“Al, are you home?” He heard James setting everything at the end of the sofa, like he did every time he returned. He had a ritual of dropping everything work-related there, then finding him. He always put everything away later, but finding Alastair was always his first priority upon arriving home.

“Bathroom,” he called out hoarsely, trying, and failing, not to gag.

Within seconds, James was there, taking everything in with a concerned expression. “Love, how long have you been sick?” he asked, kneeling down beside his boyfriend and laying the back of his hand on his forehead.

“Since…,” he swallowed hard, determined to answer before throwing up again, “about four this morning.” He moaned softly, shivering, then threw up again.

James went and got a flannel and soaked it in cool water, wrung it out, then knelt back down beside him, running the cloth over his face and the back of his neck. “Have you been able to keep anything down?” he asked quietly.

“Not really.” He laid his head on James’ shoulder, taking comfort in his presence. “There's a...bit of a mess in the bedroom. Didn't quite make it the first time.” His face was burning.

“I'll take care of it, love. Nothing to be upset over. God knows you couldn't help being sick.” 

“Must've caught it from Roxy. Mum said they had to close school because of it infecting so many students when she called yesterday.” 

James nodded. “I mentioned to Carol that she seemed a little off when I took her and Robert back Sunday afternoon. Fay’s even said it's made the rounds at the hospital.” 

Alastair heard him putter through the house, getting out a soda to let it go flat, changing out of his work clothes, and cleaning up the mess in the bedroom. He then returned with a blanket, pillow, and the soda. Realizing that James intended to stay with him, he said, “I’ll wind up getting you sick, too.” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” James replied. “Here, take a few sips of this, and try to sleep a little.” 

He eventually drifted off to James running his fingers through his hair and humming softly.

**Comforting Worried Siblings**

A flight of stairs. He was in hospital due to falling down a fucking flight of stairs and knocking himself out on a wall.

Roxy was crying. Robert just looked numb. She had always been much closer to her older brother than her younger one, in spite of the considerably larger age difference. It wasn't that Robert was a bad kid, it wasn't that he and Roxy were not also close as well, and he and James had a good relationship with him, just difference in temperament and personality. He and Roxy were more reserved, while Robert never knew a stranger, much like James, in a way. James was talking quietly to her, an arm wrapped around her while she was sobbing quietly into his shirt. He was also managing to wrap an arm around Robert as well. Seeing their older brother fall down the stairs and then not wake up was terrifying for the nine-year-old and eight-year-old, but Roxy still had the presence of mind to yell for James, who was still in their flat, then to contact emergency services. 

Their parents were in Italy for a week's holiday sans kids, so calling them was out unless it was something that actually required their presence, and James wouldn't call them back for what the doctors had assured him was a moderate concussion. Yes, he would tell them what had happened, but he would assure them that everything was fine, they needn't hurry back, and, no, he did not mind helping watch Roxy and Robbie.

Some men might have resented the much-younger siblings of their boyfriend, who had been an only child until he was sixteen and his mother, who had been told that she would never have another child, got pregnant not once, but twice. James didn't. He was, much to Alastair’s combined relief and delight, absolutely crazy about Roxy and Robert, and they about him.

So, even though he had a pounding headache, and they were going to get chased out by the nurse in about half an hour so that he could get some sleep while he was kept for observation, Alastair was happy.

**Reunion**

Alastair followed Morgana, who had on multiple occasions over the years asked him to call her Carrie when they were not on missions, up the narrow trail to a small cabin on her grandfather's property in North Carolina. Until he saw for himself, he could not bring himself to completely believe what she had told him, Merlin, Eggsy, and Roxy a few hours prior to landing in Kentucky to pick up Harry, who was also alive, if a bit injured and traumatized.

James was alive. Apparently, due to her magic, she had felt when Gazelle had killed him the instant it happened, and had called in a favor with a non-human friend that could return the dead to life as long as all the remains were in one place, less than a day had passed, and she and her friend performed two different types of magic in tandem in order to repair his body, plus coax his soul to return to it.

He had initially been torn between anger that she had not told him, and disbelief. Roxy had given her a glare that could have almost set her on fire, and Merlin just looked a mixture of contemplative, grieved, and disturbed, as though he suspected what her reasoning would be, and knew that she had not made her decisions lightly, unfortunately being in the position of making a decision based on saving the maximum number of people while incurring the minimum amount of damage. Eggsy had been outraged on his and Roxy’s behalf, since apparently Roxy had confided in him about how much of a mess they both had been after James had been lost. He had not yet had the opportunity to engage the young man beyond polite nods in passing, but he apparently had a good heart and was a staunchly loyal friend.

Carrie’s reasoning had been sound and, disturbingly enough, probably correct. James had gotten much too close to the answers of what Valentine was up to, so the late, unlamented, Arthur had sent him on a mission, then sold him out to Valentine and Gazelle. He had been willfully ignorant of the fact that Carrie was extremely protective of any knights that had been her proposals, and had placed spells and charms on them that alerted her if they were seriously ill, injured, otherwise incapacitated, or if they died, plus they enabled her to apparate directly to their location. So Carrie had known the moment it had happened, and acted decisively and accordingly. He was willing to bet that, had Eggsy not taken out Chester King, she would have. He knew he certainly never wanted to fall afoul of her temper, though he had only seen her truly angry on only two occasions in almost twenty years of acquaintance, and both times had been because someone had dared to harm someone she cared about.

As to why she had hidden James’ location, she pointed out that, had James not stayed dead for all practical points and purposes, he himself would probably have been the next to be sent into a trap, or worse, Roxy, or possibly even Robert, who was on his way to being a respected chemist, being manipulated into a bad situation. So, while he did not like Carrie's reasoning, he understood and respected it.

As for the photo that the former Arthur had displayed of James’ supposed corpse, she had shrugged, given a smirk, then pulled out her wand and said, “I made Valentine and his minions see what they expected to see. There was no actual body, just a transfigured rock.” He didn't ask how Carrie would know exactly what illusion to create. He figured actually seeing the aftermath and feeling the links snap was bad enough without him bringing it up, if the slightly haunted look in her eyes when it was mentioned was anything to go by.

He barely noticed Carrie invite him past the wards surrounding the cabin that she referred to as the “Old Fishing Cabin”, but he did notice her tap out a peculiar pattern on the door with her wand.

The door opened, and Alastair and James stared at each other for a long moment, neither daring to move in case it all fell apart.

James was the first to move, his hand reaching to wipe away tears that Alastair didn't know he was crying. 

At that, something in Alastair broke free and he launched himself into James’ arms, sobbing without regard to Carrie’s presence, not that she would think any less of either of them. He only vaguely noticed her discreetly step away, wiping away a tear of her own.

“You're really alive, and I’m not dreaming?” Alastair asked in a small voice.

“I am, and you're not,” James replied, smiling through tears of his own. He was holding Alastair in his arms as though he might disappear if he moved too suddenly, and couldn't know that Alastair was thinking the same thing.

Or maybe he did, Alastair thought as James tightened his embrace, dropping kisses on his head.

**+1. Nightmare**

James jerked awake, panting and sweating profusely. While he did not exactly remember being dead, other than a vague sense of darkness, disembodiment, and terror, he remembered dying. A splitting sensation, a horrible split-second of shock, then the silent blackness until awareness slammed back into him and he woke up with Carrie kneeling on the floor next to him. 

Beside him, Alastair stirred. “Bad dream, love?” he mumbled.

“Yeah.” He shivered, rubbing his arms and trying to tamp down the nausea that always accompanied the nightmares. Some nights, most nights, even, it wasn't too bad, but other nights, the memories and sense of sheer terror that accompanied them would leave him hunched over the toilet or a bin, emptying the contents of his stomach. Either way, it was almost every night. Carrie had said the memories would fade in time, and they were indeed fading, just not quickly enough for his liking. She had categorically refused to wall off the memories, saying that buried things had a nasty habit of resurfacing, and the memories would come back worse when they inevitably did. He figured that she knew what she was talking about.

Alastair drew James to him until his head was resting on his chest, stroking his hair until his breathing slowed back down. “Are you going to try to go back to sleep, or do you want to get up for a while?” Alastair asked quietly.

“Think I'm gonna try to go back to sleep,” James replied, his grip on his husband tightening. “Can we stay like this, just until I fall asleep?” 

“Of course, love. We can stay this way as long as you want,” Alastair replied, continuing to stroke James’ hair.

Slowly, James fell back asleep, lulled by Alastair’s heartbeat.


End file.
